9 The Butterfly Effect
by piccolina789
Summary: Follows most of the ninth season of CSI with "what happened after?" post-eps. Spoilers for CSI season 9, from "For Warrick" to "The Grave Shift". GSR.
1. For Strength

**A/N: **Well here we are… season nine! I can't believe I wrote all the way from season ONE!

And here's my thoughts: I plan to end this series at 9x11, "The Grave Shift", after Sara and Grissom have their happily ever after in the jungle. I considered doing the rest of season nine, and maybe into ten and eleven, but there's really just not much to go on. Seasons ten and eleven could be a little better with Sara back, but even then, I feel like the post-eps would get repetitive.

And so I'd rather just leave it here, which also leads us very nicely into the brand new season twelve! If you enjoyed these stories, watch this space, because I may change my mind and go back and do seasons ten and eleven at some point, and maybe even do a few post-eps for season twelve, if TPTB give us anything to go on. And of course, I'm sure I'll post other stories in the near future.

So with that said, here's the beginning of the end, spoilers for episode 9x1, For Warrick.

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><p>I'd held it in until then, but as I watched Gil struggle not to break down right there in front of all of us, my tears came flowing out. My heart broke as I watched him stand there, choking on the words he was trying to say, the things he needed to tell Warrick. That he would miss him. That he loved him.<p>

He stepped down from the podium and slipped back onto the bench next to me. My hand went straight for his.

I looked up at him, wanting to find the right words to make that look of pain on his face disappear, but falling short. I offered him the best smile I could manage, and he gave one back to me.

In front of us, the priest motioned for the processional to begin, and we were the first out of the church, following right behind Warrick's casket. I couldn't bring myself to look at it. Instead, I looked straight at the ground, trusting Gil's grasp on my hand and the closeness of his body to guide me out of the church.

The sun outside was blinding, unnecessarily harsh. Cars drove by us on the street, occasionally slowing down to watch us walk past. Dozens upon dozens of people, carrying on with their ordinary lives, not knowing what kind of man the world was now missing.

The whole team piled into a Denali, Gil and I in the front, Nick and Catherine in the middle seats and Greg stuck in the back. None of us could bring ourselves to speak, fearing that the emotion would claim us the moment we opened our mouths.

So we drove to the cemetery in silence, pulling up with a cavalcade of cars behind us, and stood alongside Tina, and Warrick's beautiful son, Eli. The priest spoke more, and the others around me were saying Bible verses in response, but the words and the sounds and the people swirled around me like a dream. None of it felt real. Not the priest, not the funeral, and not Warrick's casket. All that was real was Gil's hand in mine.

And just like that, it was over. People started filing out around us, but we stayed where we stood, not wanting to leave Warrick. Not ready to say goodbye.

Gil was the first to move. I felt his fingers slip from mine, and I glanced up in surprise. He moved towards Tina, who was clutching her son like a lifeline, unable to tear her eyes away from the grave. He paused in front of her, then together, they enveloped each other into a hug.

"I'm so sorry," I heard him murmur as they embraced.

As they broke apart, Gil lingered in front of Eli, his hand on the baby's back.

"Your father was one of the greatest men I ever knew," he said softly before looking up at Tina. "Make sure he knows that."

I choked back a sob, feeling Nick's arm stretch around my shoulders. Gil came back to us, looked at each of us in turn, and nodded. It was time to go.

I slipped my hand back in his.

"Everyone from the lab is going to Catherine's," I told him softly. "Do you want to go?"

He looked at me, broken and distressed.

"I don't think I can," he whispered.

I pulled him into an embrace, feeling him cry into my shoulder under the hot, hot sun, and whispered into his ear.

"Let's go home."

It wasn't until we were home – or at least, back at his townhouse – until we were alone, that he allowed himself to really crumble. He had held me so many times, wiped away so many of my tears, and this was my chance to make that up to him in the smallest way. Warrick's voice echoed in my mind.

_You're a tough cookie. _

I had to smile. I would be strong for Gil, and for Warrick. So I held him when he cried, dried his tears when they stopped, held him as he was silent and, finally, looked into his eyes.

"I… I'm s-sorry," he choked.

"Hey," I said soothingly. "Don't be. Warrick wouldn't have wanted you to pretend."

"Sara," he whispered, breathless.

"Hmm?"

I stroked his curls.

"I need you."

I looked at him in surprise, unsure. But his steady gaze told me what he needed. He needed me, and as soon as I felt him move closer beside me, I realized how much I needed him. Through our touches, we offered each other the comfort words could not provide. Our bodies and souls sought solace, and found it, in each other. In the moment, loving each other didn't feel wrong, on the contrary, it made perfect sense. It was as if we were carrying out the message and legacy Warrick left – the overwhelming belief in the beauty of life.

And after, we held each other as if the world might end if we let go. I loved and had missed this man more than anything in the world.

"I don't think I know how to deal with this," he said softly into the darkness.

I reached out to stroke his forehead, and felt his face turn towards me. I pressed my lips against his.

"There is no good way," I replied. "You just… do."

"Thank you," he murmured. "For being here. I don't know what I would have done without you."

I just pressed another kiss to his lips, and pulled his head to my chest, cradling it there. I held him until he was fast asleep, and hoped that he remained so until the morning. I settled into the covers, sighed and closed my eyes, feeling sleep beginning to claim me too.

But even in the moment of deepest peace, with Gil sleeping beside me once again, I knew what was inevitable.

And I didn't know if I could survive leaving him again.


	2. Rock and The Hard Place

**A/N: **More sadness. I promise I don't enjoy doing this to you.

Spoilers for episode 9x2, The Happy Place.

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><p>My phone rang the moment I finished Scott's interrogation. My stomach flipped at the name on the caller I.D.<p>

"Hi," I answered softly.

Her reply came strained and tearful.

"Hey."

"Honey," I said, stopping in my tracks. "Is everything okay?"

"I wanted to stop by the lab and see you in person, but, my flight got changed," she said. "My cab is waiting for me."

"You're… you're leaving?" I repeated, feeling my stomach abandon its summersaults and sink straight to my feet. This was… unexpected. The fearful idea of Sara leaving again had always been in the back of my mind, but I pushed it so far back with hopeful thoughts of her coming back to stay that it almost seemed like a joke, a remote possibility. I wasn't ready to let her go just yet. I needed her.

"I meant what I told you," she replied remorsefully. "I can't stay here."

"Losing you once was hard enough, Sara," I said. "Losing you twice… I don't know if I can take it."

"What do you expect me to do?" she whispered. "I can't stay here. You can't leave… what am I supposed to _do_?"

"What I said earlier," I started suddenly. "About Pam Adler and her husband. Sara, I… I wasn't talking about us. I don't want you to leave me."

"Don't make this harder," she pleaded. "This hurts me too, Gil."

"Sara," I said softly, but firmly. "What I said after the funeral… about needing you… it was true. I needed you. I still do."

"I love you," she said tentatively. "You know I do. I just… I just can't."

A lingering paused stretched between us, making the physical distance between us feel already much wider than it was. She would soon be much further away, and there was no way of knowing when I would see her again.

"What's going to happen?" I asked quietly.

"I don't know," she replied.

It was selfish of me to ask her to stay. I knew that. She already seemed so much stronger than she had when she'd left Vegas last year, but she wasn't nearly ready to come back and deal with it all over again. I could see that.

The thought of staying here without her was unbearable. Work, home, even Hank… none of it seemed the same without her. And it was wearing on me.

And yet… I couldn't bring myself to leave. There were so many things stopping me, some that I recognized and some that I still couldn't. But looming over everything was what had always kept me from Sara in the first place: fear.

She was right. There was nothing either of us could do.

"I can call you when my plane lands," she suggested quietly.

"Oh," I said distractedly. "Sure. Yeah, you should… you should do that."

"This doesn't have to be… _it_… you know," she said. "You can take some time. Figure out what it really is that you want. One week, or two, or even more… it won't be too late."

I mulled over the option she had just given me. The out. While a part of me probably knew that I would never be able to take that giant leap of faith, this was far better than the other option.

And like I said, I wasn't ready to lose her.

"Okay," I told her softly. "I'll… I'll think about it."

"Okay."

"Bye, Sara."

"Bye."

I waited several beats, my heart thumping in my chest.

"Sara!" I called.

"What?"

"I…" I trailed off, my mouth opening and closing. "Nothing. Have a safe flight."

"Goodbye, Gil," she whispered.

I closed my phone and stared at the blank screen for several minutes while the magnitude of the word washed over me. Another moment, another change in my life.

I was really starting to hate goodbyes.


	3. Heartache Imitates Love

**A/N:** There's no real spoilers here, but I'm putting this at the same time as episode 9x3, Art Imitates Life.

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><p>"So you decided to do it?"<p>

I smiled at the woman behind the nameplate and behind the desk.

"Yeah," I replied.

"I think you made the right decision, Sara," the psychologist said. "From all that you've told me and all that we've talked about… it's about time you did something for yourself. Take some time to take a step back and breathe. Think. Figure out what you really want."

"I never would have decided to go if it weren't for you," I told her honestly. "I came here to thank you."

Leaving Vegas after Warrick's service was the right thing to do. Staying there any longer would have pushed me to the brink of devastation. But once I returned back to San Francisco, alone in my rented space, I found everything too much to deal with. And for the first time in a very long time, I'd gone to my mother for advice. She'd recommended a psychologist – the best in the Bay area – one who had helped her for many years.

And together we'd talked through it all. My overwhelming last year in Vegas. My relationship with Gil since. Losing Warrick. And most of all, the internal battle that was raging within me, tearing me apart. Half of me needed to stay as far away from Vegas as I could. The other half missed it with such vehemence, it physically hurt. I missed it, not just Gil, but everything – the team, my home, my life.

It was Dr. Reed who suggested taking a trip on my own. After tossing around several possibilities – including a trip to the rainforest or a research campaign – my heart was set on the Sea Shepherd, a combination of both. Dr. Reed had a contact with the organization. He rushed my application, and I was accepted a few days later.

"When do you leave?" Dr. Reed asked.

"I fly out tomorrow," I replied. "And we set out the next day."

Dr. Reed reached across the desk to cover my hand with hers. I'd only been seeing her a little over a week, but we had connected on a personal and professional level that made it seem like much longer. I was grateful to her for pulling me up into the light when I could have very easily sank back into the darkness.

"This was a good decision, Sara," she said. "You'll see."

"I already know."

She smiled at me before catching my eye.

"Have you told him yet?" she asked.

I shook my head gently.

"No."

"I can't make you do that," she said. "But I think you should."

I smiled back at her.

"Thank you so much," I said. "For everything."

She made her way around the desk, not to shake my hand or show me to the door, but to give me a heartfelt hug.

"Good luck, Sara," she said. "I wish you the very best."

Two days later, I was clutching the small suitcase that contained all my valuables for the next month. In front of me was a massive, impressive ship, and all kinds of people scurrying around it. I took a deep breath and walked to the platform, up to a man holding a clipboard and wearing a Sea Shepherd ballcap.

"Name?" he asked pleasantly.

"Sara Sidle."

"Ah, Miss Sidle," he said. "You're one of the last to arrive. Welcome. Follow me and I'll show you where your quarters are, and explain everything you'll need to know for the first night."

He started to walk excitedly onto the boat, but I remained where I was.

"I-I'm sorry," I told him. "I just need to do one thing."

I left him with my bag and bolted down the platform and across the street to a pay phone. I dialed the number I knew by heart, and held my breath as it rang.

"You've reached Grissom," said the message. "Leave your name and number, and I'll get back to you."

I took another deep breath.

"Gil," I said. "It's me. I… I wanted to leave you this message because I'm going to be away for a while, and I don't think you'll be able to reach me by phone. I don't want you to worry about me, because I'm okay."

Across the street, a foghorn sounded. I had to make this fast.

"I sent you a letter," I continued. "Seems like we do that a lot, but… I thought it was the easiest way. It'll explain everything, but, I want you to know that whatever you decide to do… I think I'm okay. Or at least, I will be."

Ballcap Man started waving his arms, trying to attract my attention.

"I, uh… I…" I tailed off, unsure how to say goodbye. "I'll miss you."

I hung up the phone, stared at it a second and wiped the few tears that had gathered in my eyes. Then, I ran back across the street, and back to the adventure that very well might be the first of many chapters in my new life.


	4. A Place for My Head

**A/N: **Spoilers for episode 9x5, Leave Out All the Rest.

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><p>I didn't know who I was any more.<p>

It seemed I was living in a foreign world, one where regret and uncertainty and loss seemed to be the only palpable sense of consciousness.

Heather tried her best, but she didn't help. She sat for hours while I tried to fall asleep, talking about anything and everything – from her granddaughter to her new business. Eventually, I closed my eyes and feigned sleep the best I could, hoping it would convince her. I had hoped she would provide comfort, but she only made things worse. She brought everything to the surface, when I had been trying so hard to push it down, and held it right in front of my face, while I had been trying so hard to look away. And now I had to face it dead-on.

I had a choice. After Warrick died, I made the choice to stay, and I had been questioning whether it was the right one ever since. And now, I had one last choice. One last chance.

My eyes lingered to the opened envelope and letter sitting on my kitchen counter. It had arrived just a few days after Sara's voicemail, containing the briefest note I'd ever seen, but she was right, it did explain everything. The note was clipped to an airline voucher that looked innocent enough, but I knew was destiny in disguise.

The voucher was good for one more month.

My deadline.

My last chance.

I pulled my laptop from my briefcase, booted it up and opened my email. Was she waiting to hear from me? Did she want me to tell her that I received her voicemail, her video and her letter and offer? Was I supposed to tell her straight up what I intended to do?

It was not that simple. I had days where I wanted nothing but to be with her, and I had days where the thought of leaving the comfort of work and routine was unbearable. The conflicting desires battled daily, and I had no idea which would win out in the end. I had no idea which I _wanted_ to win out.

I just had no idea.

I typed in her address. I typed her name. I hit return twice. And stared at the blinking cursor.

I wanted to ask her if she could wait, just a little bit longer. If I would be too late. I wanted to tell her how relieved I was that she had finally found happiness, but how I was still searching for my own.

But my fingers lingered, frozen, over the keys, strained with the words they couldn't type. Heather's voice rung in my head, the conversation we'd shared before I parted on replay.

_"What did you expect?" she had asked. _

_ "I don't know."_

_ She shook her head._

_ "No," she said firmly. "I think you knew exactly what would happen. You might not have known when, but once Sara returned, I think you always knew that she would leave again, and you would have a decision to make."_

_ I was silent._

_ "This decision will not come easy," she said as a small smile crossed her face. "And even as your friend and stand-in psychiatrist, I cannot tell you what to do. But you need to follow your heart." _

My heart was on a boat below the equator. I wished it were that easy.

I stared at the blank screen and mocking, blinking cursor. I shut the computer and walked away, into the bedroom, where I crumbled onto the mattress. Heather's last words echoed in my mind.

_"You must choose, one way or another, or you will live your entire life with the burden of regret."_

No pressure.


	5. Say Stop

**A/N: **The three italicized quotes are from 1) CSI season three, episode Play with Fire, 2) A quote I had Lady Heather say in the Leave Out All the Rest chapter and 3) A quote from Sara in the actual Leave Out All the Rest episode.

Spoilers for episode 9x6, Say Uncle.

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><p>It had been nearly two years since I'd had a migraine, and it came back with a vengeance.<p>

I guess it was kind enough to hold off until the moment I stepped through my front door, but its manners didn't go any farther that. It was a pounding in my temples, a ringing in my ears and an aching all over my head like I'd never experienced before.

And when it hit, I realized how very tired I was. It was an exhaustion that sank deep into my very bones, one that I, again, had not experienced in years.

I did everything I could. I took my medication, closed all the blinds and turned out all the lights. I ran a washcloth under cold water and put it on my forehead as I stretched out onto the bed. I even put earplugs in my ears to soften the throb of whatever sounds were making their way through my walls.

Nothing helped.

And to make it worse, I couldn't clear my mind. I tried all my old tricks – envisioning a chess game, humming my favorite opera, I even resorted to counting sheep – but nothing worked and sleep was not so merciful as to claim me. Instead, all I could see were faces.

And I could hear the voices.

_By the time you figure it out, it really could be too late._

I tossed.

_You must choose, one way or another, or you will live your entire life with the burden of regret._

I turned.

_I've been waiting for you to decide, but… sometimes not making a decision is making a decision… And honestly, I think it's better this way._

I pressed the washcloth closer to my forehead, but nothing could shut out the faces and voices haunting me.

Haunting me.

Sara was the one with ghosts, but I was the one being haunted.

I took a sip of water and pressed my eyes shut again, praying to fall asleep and escape the pain. It wasn't until I tossed again, rolling to the still-empty side of the bed that I realized none of my remedies could work, because the real medicine was still gone.


	6. Want To, Have To, Need To

**A/N: **I'm posting this while counting down to the CSI season 12 premiere! I can't wait :)

Spoilers for episode 9x7, Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda.

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><p>I knew what he had seen and probably felt that day wouldn't be erased by a glass of scotch. I knew the answers that we both were seeking would not be at the bottom of the glass.<p>

But it was worth a shot, anyways.

"I hear you had quite a day," he said from across my desk. It had been a long time since we'd taken up this old tradition, although, admittedly, we both probably needed it more in the last few months than we ever had.

I nodded slowly as I drained about a quarter of the glass.

"Do you ever feel like this job makes you a tired, old man?"

Grissom chuckled softly.

"All the time."

"Days like today feel like they add ten years," I said, shaking my head and picturing the explosive end to the day's case. I peered at my friend from over the rim of the glass. "What about you? I heard about Natalie's hearing."

"How did you know?"

"Gil," I said plainly. "Law enforcement. Word gets around."

Truth was, I had been keeping tabs on the psycho since we caught her that rainy night. I even came close to visiting her at the guarded hospital once, after Warrick died and Sara left again. But I never did.

"I had the guards put Natalie on suicide watch," Grissom said calmly.

"What?" I exclaimed in surprise. "What, is she planning on drowning herself in bleach or something?"

"Not quite," he said grimly. "I found a miniature carved from soap in her cell. I think she's planning on hanging herself."

I paused.

"This may make me a horrible person," I prompted. "But good riddance. One less psycho out there."

"She kept saying how bad people should be punished," Grissom said softly.

"Gil," I replied in firm tone. "You haven't forgiven her for what she did to Sara, have you? She almost _killed_ her."

"I don't know how I feel," he said, his eyes focused on the ice floating in the glass of scotch. "Seeing Natalie again, seeing her normal… almost makes the whole thing feel like a dream."

"Well, news flash – it wasn't," I said, setting down my glass. "It happened, and because of it, Sara's gone."

He looked up at me sharply.

"I'm sorry," I sighed. "I didn't mean to be so… blunt. I just don't want you feeling sympathetic towards the person who ruined the best thing that ever happened to you."

Grissom blinked.

"N-not to assume Sara is the only thing in your life worth while," I floundered, wondering where I was going to take this. "I just – she just – I mean, she's an important person in _both _our lives…"

Thankfully, Grissom held up his hand and put me out of my misery.

"You're right," he said. "About everything. I've been… thinking about it a lot lately."

I noticed the change in his tone and leaned forward a little on the desk.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "But I know that right now… I'm not happy."

I nodded. That much had been obvious for a very long time. And even more potently obvious when he ran off to his good friend Lady Heather at the first whisperings of an S&M-related case.

What could I say, I kept tabs.

"I could tell," I finally admitted. "But I won't say I won't miss you when you're gone."

"Who said anything about leaving?" he asked innocently enough, trying to hide his surprise.

"No one," I smirked, tilting back in my chair, taking another sip of scotch and enjoying the moment of omnipotence. "But for the record, I hope she takes you back."

I winked.

And Grissom smiled.


	7. One Down

**A/N: **Sooo what did everyone think of the premiere? I'm optimistically hopeful for season 12 :) I hope they don't let me down!

Spoilers for episode 9x9, 19 Down.

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><p>He was a different man when Sara left.<p>

For the second time, I mean.

The first time was hard on him, to be sure, but there was still something that he could hold on to, there was still hope. Hope that she would come back, hope that they could still get their happy ending, hope that everything would go back to normal.

And it did the opposite.

After losing Warrick, and then losing Sara again not a week later, he became someone I almost didn't recognize. He was sullen, withdrawn and quiet. He got this look on his face any time someone mentioned Sara's name, like he'd gotten a quick, sudden shock, and then had to work hard to cover it up.

As his co-worker, I didn't really like the idea of the lab without him. But as his friend, I couldn't be happier. The work and the puzzles and the criminals had once been enough, but it wasn't any more. And though he never said a word about where he was headed after leaving the lab in the dust, I knew he wasn't running from anything. He was running to something, something that would make him a much happier man.

The haste and madness of the DJK case didn't leave many spare moments, but I caught Gil in one.

"Have you talked to Ecklie yet?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied. "He was surprisingly… civil. Said that despite all our differences, he always respected my work at the lab."

"He does have a heart," I said, amused. "And you, uh, told him what you told me?"

"That you'd be running shift?" he asked. "Yes. He has no problem with it."

I paused, uncertain of exactly what to say, or how to thank him.

"The team will be in more than capable hands with you, Catherine," he said. "You'll be just fine without me."

"Well, I don't know about that, but…" I paused, smiling. "Thank you."

The moment lingered between us, both of us smiling at the other.

"Crazy, huh?" I said, hoping to lighten the mood. "We had the same team for eight years, and now we're down to half."

His smile faded quickly.

"Sorry," I said immediately. "I… I didn't mean it like that. I just… it'll be hard. Getting used to the change."

"I know what you meant," he said quietly. "But sometimes change can be good."

His pager beeped and he walked away, leaving me to smile at myself in amusement. I recalled the man I knew eight years ago, who clung to consistency like a lifeline. But things changed, and so did people. And the day had come when a woman was more important to Gil Grissom than all the bugs and killers and mysteries Sin City could provide.

And I couldn't be happier for him.


	8. Two For the Road

**A/N: **I want to thank Sarapals for giving me the idea for this chapter. I loved it, and I everyone else will too!

Spoilers for episode 9x10, One to Go.

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><p>In Vegas, it often got hot. We got rain and cold and every once in a while, a tiny bit of snow. But mostly, it was hot. And in the summer, it seemed unbearable.<p>

In Costa Rica, even in January, it makes Vegas heat look like nothing special. It was humid, tiring, clammy, muggy heat. But funnily enough, even with the beads of sweat dripping down my back, I didn't mind the heat. Didn't even feel it, really. The only heat I could sense was the one coming from Sara's body as it was pressed against mine.

Oh, and the heat of her breath, as we stood and kissed like there was no tomorrow.

We were a mess. I couldn't get enough of her, and she seemed like she didn't know exactly what to feel. She was surprised, relieved and emotional all at once. In between our kisses, I wiped away a few of her errant tears. And when we finally broke away, breathless, I kissed the streaks of moisture on her cheeks.

"I guess I don't need to tell you I made my decision," I whispered.

She gave me a shaky, tearful smile and collapsed into me. I wrapped my arms around her, only just noticing the many curious faces poking out of the circle of tents surrounding us.

"Sara," I murmured into her hair. "I think we have company."

"Hmm?"

"Sara. There's a man in a scuba suit approaching us."

Sara pulled her head from my chest and laughed, wiping her eyes.

"That's Don," she said, turning towards him. "Don, this is Gil."

"The famous Gil Grissom?" the man beamed, resting a hand on his rather rotund middle.

"Gil, Don Peters," Sara introduced. "Marine biologist and resident gossipmonger. He may know a thing or two about you, but I swear, he forced it out of me."

"Well, it's a pleasure," I said, extending my hand.

"Likewise," Don said, shaking his head and smiling. "I'm so glad you made it here. So glad."

He reached out and squeezed Sara's shoulders, and waddled back to his tent, his wetsuit squishing and squashing as he walked away.

"He reminds you of me?"

"Professionally," Sara winked. "You'd look much better in a wetsuit."

I laughed, and her eyes sparkled.

"Come on, my tent is right over here."

She led me by the hand to her tent, not much more than a piece of fabric held up by two sticks, and we both sat on the cot inside, the springs groaning in protest. I took her hand.

"I have plenty of apologies," I told her. "But before I say anything, I want you to know that I'm staying. I mean… if you want me to."

I dropped my gaze.

"If I'm not too late."

Sara's hand on my cheek was warm and steady.

"I don't need any apologies," she said softly. "You're here. That's more than enough."

Her lips met mine, and this time, in the privacy of her little tent, they met again and again. I couldn't stop kissing her, holding her, touching her. She was so beautiful. There were so many things I wanted to tell her. One would think that after finally being together again, the words would flow effortlessly, but they didn't.

Then again, Sara had been known to render me speechless every now and then.

I was already growing breathless, and I knew that we had all the time in the world; to talk, to apologize, to love. So I stashed all my misplaced words aside and pulled out the ones I needed her to hear.

"I love you, Sara."

* * *

><p>In Las Vegas, I fell asleep to the sounds of the city. Honking horns and police sirens, slamming doors and yelling neighbors.<p>

In Costa Rica, it was chirping crickets and singing birds and the general buzz of rainforest and heat. It was a far cry from the city, and also from the sounds of the ship at sea, but I found it oddly calming.

Of course, the man in my cot may have had something to do with that too.

I hadn't stopped gazing at him, from the moment he walked into the camp and back into my life. From kissing in my tent, to making love on the little cot, to holding each other in the heat of the night, I didn't take my eyes off him. Perhaps I was afraid that if I did, if I even blinked, he would be gone, and the whole thing would be a blissful work of my imagination, or one heck of a dream.

But each time I snapped my eyes open after feeling them close, he was still there, right beside me.

I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair.

"I can't believe you're here," I said for seemed like the hundredth time that day.

Grissom chuckled and kissed my neck.

"Believe it."

"You're really… y-you're really…" I stopped to gasp sharply as he took my breast in his hands. "You're really staying."

He pulled away just a little and smiled.

"Sara," he said gently. "I'm staying."

He continued running his hands over me, and I let him. It felt… indescribable. Having him there, with me, next to me. And knowing this was real, that it would last this time… it was beyond words.

"Do you have any idea how much I missed you?" he murmured.

I gave him my sauciest grin.

"Show me."

I hardly had time to blink before he was at it again, his lips meeting mine again and again, his hands doing those wonderful things. It was hard to think, with him all around me, and I could only revel in idyllic perfection.

We were sweaty and smelly, but he felt more wonderful than anything I'd ever touched, and he tasted like heaven. Like home. I felt a groan slip past my lips as he devoured me in hunger. I felt a wonderful ache building within me, and I had to bring myself back to reality long enough to form comprehensible words.

"Now," I breathed. "I need you now."

Sweaty and smelly, in the heat and chirping, singing noise of Costa Rica, it was perfect.

Beside me, Gil's chest was rising and falling rapidly. I put my hand on him, moving my thumb back and forth over the curly hairs that grew there. He covered my hand with his, and turned his head towards me.

"I think I'm going to like it here," he murmured.

"There are lots of bugs."

He laughed and kissed me.

"I wasn't talking about the bugs."

"I know."

Despite the heat, I burrowed close to him, nestled skin against skin, not wanting to ever let go, and knowing that I would never have to.

Perfect.

He exhaled and I felt his breath flutter through my hair.

Perfect.

"I love you, Gil."

* * *

><p>In my other house in Las Vegas, it was noisy. People coming and going, pans clattering in the kitchen, colorful people talking and screaming and moving on the television.<p>

At my new house in Las Vegas, it's quiet. The lady who lives here doesn't talk at all, but she does use her hands a lot. She's always waving them at me like I'm meant to understand.

Eventually, I started to figure out what she's trying to tell me, even if she does look a little crazy sometimes. But she gives me the treats Mommy never let me have – the ones "too high in fat". So I like her.

And I like it here too. There are lots of cute, young dogs to watch out the window, and the second day after Daddy dropped me off, the signing lady bought me tons of toys. Plus, I'm allowed on the couch.

I do miss both of them though – Mommy and Daddy. It seems like they've been gone an awful long time, and I miss the way Mommy scratched me behind the ears, and I miss my daddy taking me for long, long walks. I started to wonder if they'd ever come back for me.

Then one day, I saw them! Right there on the big computer screen, making crazy hand movements to the signing lady! They were both smiling big, something my daddy hadn't done for a while, waving at me and saying my name. They said they loved me and they missed me.

I gave a loud bark to tell them I loved them too! I scratched my ear a bit while I thought, and then added a few more barks for good measure. They didn't say anything back, but I knew they understood.

I loved them too, and they could wait as long as they wanted to come pick me up again, as long as they were happy.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **One more chapter left in this series! To be posted tomorrow.


	9. The End

**A/N: **To follow.

Spoilers for 9x11, The Grave Shift.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Nick!" I called. "Nick!"<p>

"I'm busy, Greggo," he groaned back without a second glance.

I caught up to him and grabbed ahold of his shirt collar.

"I don't care," I told him. "This is important."

We sat down at the table in the break room facing each other, Nick looking slightly disgruntled and me trying to keep the excitement from my face.

"Guess what I got today?" I asked him.

"I am not in the mood for games today, Greg," he said. "This case is turning into a freakin' headache."

I pulled a face.

"Humor me," I said. "It'll pay off."

He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"A girlfriend," he guessed.

I shot him a look.

"Theresa and I aren't putting labels on it yet," I said contemptuously. "No."

"A lifetime supply of liquid latex?"

"You're an ass."

He watched me type away on the computer.

"I don't know, Greg, will you just tell me what it is?"

"An e-mail from Sara," I grinned.

"Congratulations," he said sarcastically. "I got one of those Tuesday."

"I bet it didn't have this attached."

I opened the picture Sara had attached to her note and swung the computer around so that the screen faced Nick. As if on cue, he shut up and his mouth dropped open. I grinned.

Because my reaction had been exactly the same. I knew every detail of the photo Nick was staring at, because I'd stared at it for an indeterminate amount of time before shift. Sara, tanned, with curly, slightly frizzy hair, in a simple white sundress, stood facing Grissom, beard shaven and wearing a dark blue shirt. They stood with hands clasped together, two rings gleaming from their fingers in the bright Costa Rican sunlight.

"Are those…" Nick gaped.

"Yep," I said satisfactorily.

"Does that mean?..."

"Yep."

Nick leaned back in his chair and gave a low whistle.

"Holy shit," he said, flabbergasted.

"My thoughts exactly."

Nick looked up at me.

"When did she send that?"

"This morning," I replied. "She said in the note it happened yesterday. She sounded… ecstatic. She wanted to let me know that she'd be out of touch for a bit while they're on their honeymoon."

"_Honeymoon_?" Nick repeated dubiously. "Holy shit."

He shook his head in shock and awe for a few moments.

"Lemme see that again."

I turned the screen back around, and though Nick was still shaking his head in amazement, a small smile crept across his face.

"They look happy," he said finally.

"Yeah, they do," I beamed.

"How many people know about this?"

"Including us?" I asked. "Two."

Nick's eyes danced with excitement.

"Don't tell a soul until I wrap my case," he said. "I want to think of the perfect way to drop this on Catherine and Brass."

He gathered up his case files and made for the door.

"Swear it, Sanders!"

I rolled my eyes.

"I swear."

Nick laughed and took off, and I turned the screen back around to face me. It didn't take a CSI to see the steady, unwavering love that passed between them in their gaze. I took a deep breath, smiled, and sighed.

"Congratulations, Sara," I whispered.

And for the first time since an arm reached into my car and proceeded to pull me into a dark alley and pummel me half to death, I felt overwhelmingly happy. Because I knew that even in a world full of seemingly unending despair and grief and darkness, there was still such a thing as a happy ending.

And that was something to cherish.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **It's done! I did it! Thank you SO much to EVERYONE that has read and reviewed with me from the very beginning. I wanted to name each of you by name to let you know how much I appreciate it, but I knew I'd unintentionally forget someone, and you know who you are. Thank you.

This series has been fun and challenging and rewarding all at once, and I hope that I will see you all again soon with the next story!


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